


Hey, Handcock

by Uber_name



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: Crack, Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uber_name/pseuds/Uber_name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because HanCOCK...Hand Cock anyone? I just want a stoned/drunk/tired/what ever SS teasing Hancock about his name. If it's during sex, all the better. FKM Fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Handcock

“Hancock! Hancock! Wait… Oh god- _HANDCOCK_!”  
Hancock tightened his grip on Nates hips and bent himself over his friends back. “That’s it,” he growled, assuming the name-calling was the direct result of orgasmic rapture on Nate’s part.  
A bubble of laughter burst from his friend’s lips as he angled his ass upwards. “HAN _COCK_.”  
Hancock grunted as the new angle forced him to rise to the balls of his feet.   
“Get it?” Nate called from below.   
Hancock was definitely getting something, but he wasn’t sure what his friend was going on about. “Uh-huh.” He agreed breathily.   
“Mind giving my _cock_ a _hand_?” Nate giggled.   
  
Hancock grunted again and wondered if Nate was always this talkative when he took jet. Nevertheless, he helped out his bedmate that was apparently too lazy to palm himself. _The things I do for you_ , he grumbled without much conviction.   
“I don’t think you get it,” Nate continued.   
Hancock abandoned Nate’s dick and groped for the nearest pillow to cover the talkative head with it. “Clearly,” Hancock said with a thrust hard enough to drive Nate halfway up the bed, “I’m doing something wrong if you’re still able to talk.”  
“HANDCOCK!” Nate’s muffled shriek and cackle made it through the impromptu muzzle, followed by a couple of breathy moans.   
“WHAT DO YOU WAN-”  
  
Nate rolled himself over, and used the brief moment of time that Hancock remained off balance to topple him and straddle his hips.   
Hancock switched between glancing at Nates face and their hips before muttering, “Hey how’d you do that without me pulling out?”  
“You need to understand something,” Nate muttered, alternating between grinding down and pulling back up.  
“Oh god,” Hancock muttered, lolling his head back. “If you teach me somethin’ now I aint gonna remember it.”  
“Listen.”  
“I can only use one head at a time.”  
“Hancock.”  
“Nnng- no. Leave me.” Hancock tried to thrust up and increase the tempo, but Nate raised himself with that stupid shit-eating grin he got sometimes.  
“Hancock are you,” Nate planted his hands on his friends chest and bounced a couple times, “are you having a *hard* time concentrating, Hancock?  
  
“No more jet.” Hancock said, and vaulted himself upright into a sitting position while Nate continued to fuck himself deeper into the ghouls lap.  
“ _Han_ **d** COCK.” Nate growled one last time, punctuating each syllable with a bounce.  
Hancock, equally as high as his friend, finally put two and two together amongst the swirling patterns of the wall across the room and Nate’s feral grin that was – for whatever reason, sliding off his face and trying to float out the window.   
“Hey man,” Hancock said, watching the lips flutter against the glass. “I- I think you need those,” he said in horrified realization. “Your mouth?”  
“YOUR NAME IS HANDCOCK!”  
“DAMMIT NATE I CAN’T KISS YOU LIKE THIS.”  
“Hey, hey, hand me your cock.”  
“Even if I could pull it off at will, it aint gonna solve our problems.”  
“If it’s Handcock,” Nate said sagely, “you can just replace it with your hand.”  
  
At this point, neither party was thrusting or grinding, but staring at each other in horrified fascination.   
“You’re making fun of my name.” Hancock said, nearly wounded.  
You…” Nate held up a hand to Hancock’s cheek, “…why didn’t you tell me you were a ghoul?”  
“I thought you loved me?” Hancock muttered, watching as a carrot flower popped up from Nates yellow hair.   
“I do,” Nate said, gently poking at the spot where Hancock’s eyebrows should be. “But I won’t fuck you when you’ve got dick for hands.”  
“I thought you liked it?”  
“I like Hancock, not Handcocks.”  
“What is the real problem here?” The ghoul asked, trying to clear his addled mind and vaguely wondering if they could get back to the sexytimes.  
“You never fuck me with your hat on.” Nate muttered petulantly.   
“I want you to take off your vault suit at a moment’s notice and bend over the nearest available object so that I can ravage you with every part of my body.”  
Nate looked off into the distance, weighing the options. “Handcock.”  
“That too.”  
“Deal.”  
  
“Alright,” Hancock said, glad they sorted that out. “But I need you to put your mouth back on. It’s between the couch cushions.”  
“That is where I keep my spare coins.” Nate said cheerfully, hopping off Hancock’s lap and tearing the couch apart. “…Hancock…?” Nate asked, turning to his friend.  
Hancock watched the look of abject horror etch itself into his friends face. “What?” he asked, jumping up. “What’s wrong?”  
“It’s not here,” Nate said, flipping the cushions around.   
“I just saw it!”  
“HANDCOCK!”  
“I CAN FIX THIS!”  
“HANDCOCK WHERE IS MY MOUTH?!”  
“UH- UH! I DUNNO!”  
“FIND IT!”  
“OHMYGOD!” Hancock cried, sinking to his knees. “What have I DONE?!”  
  
“I can’t go on like this!” Nate proclaimed, grabbing the nearest piece of clothing and angrily stomping out the room. “Call me when you find my mouth!”  
“No!” Hancock cried, tripping over a cushion in his hasty attempt to stumble up and run after his friend. “Don’t leave me, please!”  
“I’m angry!” Nate shouted from down the hall.  
“HOW DO I CALL YOU?!” Hancock cried from the doorway, watching Nates ass do a little dance to warm himself up as he tried to open his bedroom door.   
“Use the house phone!” Nate shouted back, finally getting the door open and subsequently slamming it shut.  
“Can I borrow yours?” Hancock shouted tentatively. “I don’t have one.”  
“YES!” Nate called from his room five doors down.  
“SHUT UP!” Someone called from the room in between.  
“I LOVE YOU.” Hancock bellowed.  
“I LOVE YOU TOO HANDCOCK.”  
“THANK YOU.”  
“YOU’RE WELCOME.”  
  
Hancock glanced around the room and used the one rational piece of his mind to figure out what was wrong with the arrangement. “Hey you’re wearing my hat as pants!” He called down the hall again.  
The door flew open and Hancock was greeted with a shit-eating gin Nate with Hancock’s hat dangling precariously from his dick. “Handcock,” Nate said, motioning towards the ghoul. Then he pointed down to the hat. “Dickhead.”  



End file.
